The Night We Swapped Partners in Rotterdam

As I already told in another story, my wife and I were spending a few days away. She had just turned fifty-one, and the trip had been my gift. Barely a couple of nights earlier we had stepped into a swinging club for the first time, and what had happened there was still turning over in my head every time I looked at her.

Besides sightseeing, we had gone to visit an old friend of Mariela’s. His name was Bram, he was around fifty-eight, and he had married a Dutch woman, Saskia, twelve years younger than him. I liked her from the very first handshake: blonde, fair-eyed, slim and firm, with a body that clearly showed gym work and a small but perky ass that I couldn’t stop looking at all evening. She reminded me a little of Charlize Theron.

Saturday dawned lazy. It was obvious nobody was going to work, and the few people crossing the pavement looked lighter than on previous days.

“Bram called me,” Mariela said, looking at her phone. “They’re inviting us to dinner at their place. Feel like it?”

In my mind, Saskia’s image appeared and I smiled before I could stop myself.

“Sure... if you feel like it,” I answered.

“If I feel like it? You’re such an idiot. You must be dying to see her again. She’s got an amazing figure, and the other day she seemed to enjoy being next to you almost as much as you enjoyed her.”

“Bah. What ideas you come up with.”

We spent the morning among canals and monuments, and at noon we ate in a small, cozy restaurant, with typical dishes and a bottle of wine we shared in the soft light.

***

In the afternoon we went back to the hotel to rest and get ready for dinner. One of the things that excites me most is watching Mariela get ready to go out. I don’t really know why, but I always imagine she’s doing it thinking about pleasing another man, and that mix of jealousy and desire lights up my imagination in a way I don’t fully understand myself.

She took a long bath, rubbed cream all over her skin until it shone, and went to the wardrobe.

“Tonight I choose your clothes,” I said, stopping her with a gesture.

“You scare me. Now you want me to be your submissive?”

“No. I want you to be the most desired woman at the party.”

I took a white lycra dress out of the suitcase. It reached mid-thigh and left her back bare. I liked it because the thin, double fabric clung to every curve without going see-through, though it mercilessly outlined her nipples.

“You don’t seriously expect me to wear that to Bram’s house?”

“Of course I do, darling. And you’re going to wear no underwear.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I want everyone to want you tonight. And when they’re dying for you, I’m the one who’s going to take you away.”

“It turns me on when you talk to me like that,” she murmured, winking as she slid the dress over her hips.

This is getting away from us again, I thought, and instead of slowing me down, the idea pushed me on.

She put on makeup and painted her lips a deep red. Before we left, I placed a small sticker at the nape of her neck, almost hidden under her tied-up hair: a queen of spades with a “Q” in the center. She didn’t ask what it meant, or pretended not to know. I took a profile photo of her, with the nipple barely covered by her own hand and the design visible.

“I hope you’re careful with those photos,” she said.

“I hope some stranger jerks off to them,” I replied, and kissed her against the wall until she ran out of breath.

***

Bram lived in a modern apartment block near the river. He opened the door himself, in jeans and a T-shirt, casual and fit despite his age. He kissed Mariela twice, too close to the lips, and gave me a firm handshake. Saskia appeared behind him in a black strappy top under which her nipples could be made out, and tight leather pants. I had to make an effort to look her in the face when she came over to greet me.

The women went into the kitchen to finish preparations and I stayed with Bram in front of a match. Saskia came back with beers and, when she bent down to put them on the table, she let her cleavage do the talking.

“Saskia, you’re a sweetheart. What a shame we’re married to other people,” I blurted out with a laugh. I caught the taut look on Mariela’s face from the kitchen out of the corner of my eye.

“I say the same,” Bram chimed in, and the three of us laughed. “I don’t know how she puts up with me, with how gorgeous she is.”

When the hosts went back to the kitchen, Mariela sat down next to me on the sofa.

“You’re going too far,” she told me quietly, annoyed. “I don’t think Bram likes you flirting with his wife.”

“I saw he was playing along. The thing is, you’re jealous.”

“Not at all.”

But it showed in the way she bit her lip.

***

We sat down to dinner and everything was delicious. One bottle went down, then two more. With every glass we laughed at any little thing, and before we realized it there was no wine left on the table. Saskia suggested playing cards, and Bram came back from the kitchen with a bottle of Scotch whisky and four glasses with ice.

“Your whiskies are always amazing,” Mariela said, and I was thrown off by how much she knew about her friend’s liquors. How many times had she been in that house?

We played in pairs, men against women. The game was even until, fueled by alcohol, I suggested raising the stakes.

“If you’re so sure you’ll win, let’s play something different. The losing pair takes off one item of clothing.”

“We accept,” Mariela said, surprising me. “But whoever loses can choose between taking off their clothes or doing a dare.”

“Let’s play, then—we’ll strip them,” Saskia cut in, her tongue a little thick from the drink. “I want to see these two with nothing on.”

I felt a tug in my stomach. The possibilities opened before me like a fan.

***

The game moved fast. We kept losing clothes until Bram and I were left in our underwear and Saskia in a thong. Mariela was on a good streak and stayed dressed in her dress, until it was her turn to lose. To my astonishment, and pushed by the alcohol, she yanked it off, revealing her firm breasts and her carefully shaved sex.

Then Saskia lost and took off the thong. Both women were completely naked and we were left with our underwear tightening over the growing bulges. I lost the next hand and pulled my briefs down with a shame that lasted one second.

“Let’s switch to something faster,” Bram suggested. “Each person draws a card. Whoever draws the lowest one loses and does a dare.”

No one argued. The dirty thrill was deciding for all of us.

Saskia lost first and had to masturbate for thirty seconds. She lay down on the sofa, spread her legs, and touched herself shamelessly, looking at me. Then Bram lost and had to kiss my wife for twenty seconds: I saw their tongues meet and saw Mariela seek my approval with her eyes before letting herself go. I nodded.

The next one I lost, and the dare was to eat Mariela out. I knelt down and, before I even touched her, she was already wet. I worked my tongue on her clit and at her opening while she sighed. I lost again, this time with Saskia: I licked her small breasts and gently bit her dark, erect nipples while she laughed with pleasure. Losing like that was a pleasure.

***

Then Saskia drew the low card and read the dare aloud. She had to go out of the apartment covered only with a coat, ask something of an older neighbor in the building, and say goodbye with a kiss on the mouth.

“Do you play this a lot?” I asked, half incredulous, half excited.

“We keep changing the dares as we come up with them,” Bram answered naturally.

Saskia put on a short leather coat over her naked skin, barely covering her ass and accentuating her nipples. We went down three floors and hid behind the stairs like three teenagers. She knocked on Mr. Joost’s door and adjusted the belt, parting the lapels a little to show her cleavage.

A petite woman opened the door, his wife Griet, who must have been close to eighty. Saskia asked her in Dutch for some salt; the old woman invited her in and she declined with a smile. A moment later old Joost appeared to see who it was, and when he came upon that half-open coat his face lit up. He put a hand on her waist, brushing her ass, never taking his eyes off her cleavage.

“Look at the old guy,” I whispered to my companions. “If his wife weren’t there, he’d take her right then and there.”

No one answered me. Bram, aroused, was hugging Mariela from behind, shamelessly pressing himself against her, and my wife didn’t seem to be rejecting him at all.

When the old woman went back inside to fetch the oil Saskia had asked for as a tip, she took her chance: she took the old man’s trembling hands, placed them on her ass over the coat, and planted a long, loud kiss on him that barely lasted twenty seconds. They pulled apart just before Griet reappeared. The bulge under the old man’s bathrobe fooled no one.

***

Back on the stairs, nothing held us back anymore. Saskia took my hand, slipped it under her coat against her hot breast, and kissed me. Her body was soft and smelled of desire, and it excited me to think that my wife had tasted those same lips a little while earlier. I squeezed her breasts and pinched her nipples while she whimpered softly and reached for my hard-on with her hand.

Just a few steps away, Mariela had straddled Bram on the landing. I didn’t need to see closely to know he was fucking her in front of me. Far from upsetting me, it set me on fire.

“I want you right here,” I told Saskia, pulling my mouth away.

“Do you have an open relationship?” I asked.

“Of course, dummy. Didn’t your wife tell you?”

So Mariela knew things about Bram she had never told me. Instead of hurting, the idea pushed me deeper.

I went down her body with my tongue, kissing her nipples and nibbling them, until I knelt between her legs. I started eating her soaked pussy while beside me my wife moved in time atop another man. Saskia writhed with her head thrown back, not caring if any neighbor might discover us.

“I’m going to come...” she panted.

I stopped dead. She looked at me, confused.

“I want to keep you on the edge for a while,” I told her, “so when you come, it’s the most intense orgasm of your life.”

She understood, and bent down to find my cock. She licked it slowly, savoring it like a treat, and then took it all the way in until her eyes grew wet. Her breasts, already free of the coat, moved with the rhythm of her mouth. Mariela turned around and, when she saw them, started stroking them without stopping riding Bram.

***

Saskia straightened with her back to me and lifted the coat to show me her ass.

“I want you to fuck me from behind.”

My wife and I had never practiced anal sex, and the idea alone sped up my pulse. I knelt down, prepared her with my tongue and one finger, stretching that tight ring while she pushed her hips toward me. Mariela, who had finished with Bram and was watching everything from the floor, came over and wet my hard-on with her own saliva.

“That way it’ll go in better,” she told me, depraved, no trace left in her of the woman I had been married to for years.

I placed the tip against Saskia’s sphincter and pushed slowly, firmly. She offered barely any resistance. I moved in halfway, feeling how tightly she squeezed me, and she threw her head back looking for my mouth.

“I love it. Keep going. Deeper,” she moaned.

My wife brought her hand to her clit, but Saskia brushed it away: she wanted to feel only that, to reach the end by a single route. I pushed all the way in and she came screaming, contracting around me in waves that made me lose control. I couldn’t hold back any longer and let go inside her.

I stayed pressed against her back for a while, unwilling to pull out, while I watched the trail of my pleasure slide down her thighs. Then I looked at Mariela. She held my gaze from the floor, tousled and satisfied, and we both smiled at each other without saying a word. No need.